The Curse [Legend of Blackbeard's Chalice Book 1]

by Maddie James

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  Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  www.resplendencepublishing.com

  Copyright ©2007 by Maddie James

  First published in RP, 2007

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  To Janet Eaves.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  From the Author

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  THE CURSE

  The Legend of Blackbeard's Chalice

  Book One

  by Maddie James

  Copyright © 2007, Maddie James

  Published November 2007 by Resplendence Publishing, LLC

  Edgewater, Florida

  All rights reserved

  Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and occurrences are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  To Janet Eaves.

  This one is for you, babe. Thanks for all the months (years?) of brainstorming, critique, soul-searching and just plain indulging in my iterations of this story. Your love of Jack and Claire and their “night kiss” was almost as deep as mine. Thanks for believing in me and my writing and always, always pushing me forward.

  To Leigh and Jess.

  I'm forever grateful for your taking a chance on me and this story. Finally, I'll hold this book in my hands. Truly, a dream come true. Thank you.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Prologue

  Near the barrier islands, off the Carolina coast, 1718

  Jack Porter eyed the ship moving just off the shore with a vengeance. It was near midnight and if Teach thought he could easily slip through the inlet without being seen, he was wrong. Jack Porter saw everything. He'd waited three days for this moment, and there was not a man on earth who would stop him from getting Edward Teach tonight. There was not a man in hell who would keep him from retrieving his wife.

  Not a man in hell.

  He watched as the ship slid quietly through the night. A bright swatch of moonlight illuminated the path to Teach's Hole, a four-mile wide channel flanked by Ocracoke Island on the east and a wide shoal on the west. Teach was smart, of that there was no doubt. He could flee in either direction to safety and freedom if approached by an enemy, as long as he wasn't approached from both directions. But Teach would be expecting a large ship or a sloop. He wouldn't be expecting a lone man in a small craft. He definitely wouldn't be expecting Jack Porter.

  Jack's oars sliced through the water at the edge of the marsh without a sound as he followed Teach until the pirate anchored ship. It was all he could do to wait, but he had to. He had to wait until Teach's crew had drunk themselves stone cold and Teach himself was under the effects of laudanum. Just a week earlier, he had taken prisoners and demanded medicine as ransom, laudanum being his preference. It was rumored that the ship's surgeon was not the only one in need of the drug. Teach needed it to survive. And Jack was counting on the rumors being true. Only after the ship was quiet, and the crew and Teach were sleeping off the effects of their liquor and drugs, would he finish his task. Only then would he retrieve his wife and take her back home.

  If indeed his wife was still aboard the pirate's vessel.

  He cringed at the thought. Edward Teach, or Blackbeard as he was known, was famous for his scandalous ways and his ill respect of women. Wives he took and abandoned, forced to marry aboard his ship, and then tossed aside. But they were the lucky ones. Some were killed outright. Others he simply raped, mutilated, and left to die. Or passed on to his crew.

  Hannah had to be there. And if she were not, then he still would not stop searching. He would find her. He would take her home and love her, no matter what Teach had done to her. He would always love her. There was nothing that could make him stop.

  Jack stared off into the triangle of moonlight reflected in the sound before Teach's ship. His eyes closed. “So help me Teach, if you have killed her I'll have your head,” he whispered. He then uttered a small prayer to the Lord above that he would find her alive. “Please,” he begged, “Just let me find her alive."

  So he waited. After nearly an hour the ship anchored. Jack could hear the shouts of the crew as they prepared to wind down for the night. He listened for perhaps another hour as their rowdiness turned quite boisterous, then for another as the night grew silent. Then it was his turn.

  Without a sound, the small boat slipped through the calm waters. Barely a curled wave lapped at the craft's nose as he oared through the night and silently pushed toward the vessel that held his wife. He stood in defiance of the huge ship as he neared the head. If it came to it, he would kill every man in sight to get to her, and he would derive much pleasure from doing it—more pleasure than he thought he would ever gain from killing a man.

  The notion startled him. He had never thought himself a murderer, or that he would ever be in a position to kill. He was a simple man, a ship's pilot who liked to fish, hunt, scavenge the beaches, and make love to his wife. But tonight, he would become a murderer, for he had come not only to rescue his wife, but to take Blackbeard's head.

  Could he do it?

  He'd know for sure when he stared the bastard in the eyes.

  He approached the ship, his strong hands held fast to the sides of the wooden vessel. He anchored the boat and then slid his dagger between his teeth as he grabbed another rope dangling over the side and shimmied up, over, and onto the ship's deck. The soft soles of his boots padded his leap.

  He crouched low and crept along the side until he reached the opening to the cabin he suspected was Teach's lair. Glancing about, he noticed two men sleeping on the opposite side of the deck and one sprawled not far from where he stood. Where the rest of the crew was, he had no clue. He hoped they were below, passed out cold from the rum they had consumed a few hours earlier. And he hoped beyond all hope that Teach was the same.

  Stepping down into the captain's cabin, Jack removed the dagger from his teeth and held it tight in his right fist. He descended, wary as a cat, pausing to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. Pausing to let his pulse catch up with his pounding heart. Moonlight barely penetrated the shadows of Teach's quarters, but he thought he could see a body lying in the berth next to the wall. Jack squinted a
nd stepped silently forward, trying for a better view, then froze as something cold and hard struck him in the back of the neck behind his right ear.

  His blood ran icy hot.

  "Don't move ye bloody bastard or I'll take off yer head."

  Jack closed his eyes. It was either a stupid man or a careless man who got himself into predicaments such as this. And at the moment, he wondered if he was both.

  He opened his eyes and stared ahead at the still form lying on the bed. Blunt steel nudged his neck. His eyes had now adjusted to the darkness, and without a doubt, he glimpsed a small feminine hand peeking out from beneath a blanket. A minute shaft of moonlight perforated two boards overhead and highlighted that hand. On her finger, Jack saw the simple band of gold he had placed there ten months earlier when they had married.

  "I've come for my wife, Teach."

  A deep guffaw gurgled up inside the man behind him, followed by a noisy snort. The cold barrel dug deeper. The words that came from his throat were nearly as vile as the stench that reeked off him. “Do ye think I'm finished with her yet?"

  Jack's blood boiled. “I've come to get her ... and I'll have your head while I'm at it!"

  He instantly sliced the dagger backward with a thrust as powerful as he could muster. The knife stabbed high into Teach's thigh, just shy of his manhood, ripping wide fabric and skin. Jack ducked to avoid the pirate's quick trigger finger on the pistol as he heard the man's evil curse, and then pushed his body into Teach's, hurling them both toward the right side of his quarters so he wouldn't hit Hannah.

  The pistol flew out of Teach's hand and skidded across the oiled plank floor. Jack and Teach struggled, but as luck would have it, Teach gave up without much of a fight. As Jack had suspected, the effects of the laudanum had weakened the pirate. Very soon the fiercest of them all, the Devil incarnate himself, Captain Edward Teach, found himself flat on his back on his cabin floor with a foot shoved under his chin, gasping for air, and a dagger digging dangerously close to his ballocks.

  And with one swift, certain, and determined sweep of the knife, Jack Porter made a decision. He slit through the fabric and tender skin of Blackbeard's crotch, settling for his manhood instead of his head.

  And found much pleasure in doing so.

  Jack Porter wasn't a murderer after all. But he wasn't above castrating the son-of-a-bitch who kidnapped his wife.

  Even under the influence of laudanum, Teach knew what had happened to him, for he shrieked and cursed, holding his balls as if they were precious jewels, struggling to get up from the floor. But Jack's foot still kept him pinned at the neck to the cabin's grimy plank floor. Then thinking he heard movement outside, he abruptly lifted his foot off Teach.

  The pirate gasped with long, labored and repeated intakes of breath, struggling to draw air into his lungs. He then rolled onto his side. Taking advantage of the pirate's incapacitated state Jack nimbly leaped to the left side of the cabin, picked up Teach's pistol and shoved it into the waistband of his pants. He scooped Hannah into his arms and quickly ascended the steps to the deck.

  The full moon wholly lit the night and Jack saw that the only movement above was a man retching over the side of the ship. His only predicament now was to get his unconscious wife over the ship's side to his boat before Teach's wails woke the entire crew.

  He slipped quietly to where he had come aboard and peered over the side to his boat, then glanced backward as Teach's curses grew louder. It was then Jack saw the piercing glow from the pirate's eyes as he struggled to come on deck. And, if he was successful, there was no doubt in his mind that he and Hannah would soon be dead.

  He had no choice. With one last glimpse over the side and holding onto Hannah with every fiber in him, he leaped onto the wooden edge, perched precariously there for only a second as he glanced backward into the face of hell's own son, then jumped.

  They plunged into the dark, chilly waters, narrowly missing the skiff. Down they sank into the murky depths surrounded by a myriad of air bubbles. Jack tried not to panic, knowing that in her present state, Hannah wouldn't know to hold her breath. He struggled to release the blanket entangled with their bodies. Wet, saturated and heavy now with brackish water, the coverlet weighed them down and sucked them both deeper into the sea. And the more he struggled with it, the more snarled his and Hannah's limbs became in the water-laden fabric.

  Lungs burning, he feared that before he could free Hannah from the blanket, his chest would burst from lack of air, and they would both be doomed to lie at the bottom of the sound for eternity.

  No!

  He would not let that happen. He had waited a long time for Hannah to marry him. And for three days he had searched and waited to rescue her from despicable horrors. Now she was in his arms and he would not give up,

  They sank lower.

  Jack tugged and pulled with intensity so fierce that the blanket unexpectedly uncoiled from their bodies and drifted away. Then Jack held Hannah tight as he struggled to propel their bodies upward. Just as tiny white lights sparked behind his eyes, he burst through the surface with a gasp he feared would alert the crew above.

  Throwing his head from side to side, he flung his long hair out of his eyes. His lungs exploded with a frantic expulsion of air and a simultaneous gasping intake of breath. His chest burned. His mouth and eyes stung with salt. It seemed it took an eternity for his head to clear but in all reality, he knew it could only have been seconds. Cradling Hannah against him, he took care to keep her head above the surface as he frantically searched for the skiff. But when he allowed himself a split-second glance at her ashen face, he feared the worst and knew he had no time to waste.

  There were shouts above him; he paid them no heed. With two strokes he reached his small boat and rolled Hannah over the side. It was then that he noticed the mist. Deftly, he sliced the rope anchoring his boat to the pirate's vessel and pushed off the side. A gunshot fired and ripped through the waters beside him but he kept his head. Under oar, he sliced smoothly through the water and into the thick fog where he and Hannah were swallowed into the night's mist, safe from the pirate's vessel.

  Safe, for now, from Blackbeard's revenge.

  * * * *

  Tired, aching fingers smoothed back the fine golden hairs from Hannah's face. Jack sat at her bedside as he had done for the past week, but the fear was creeping in. Fear that his ministrations were in vain, that she would never wake. He knew she was dying. And he wanted desperately to gaze one last time into her sea-green eyes. Just one last time.

  But it wasn't to be.

  He had spent each day with her, forgetting his own needs, seeing only to hers. He unbolted the cabin's wooden window shutters wide, letting in the bright sunshine each morning. Hannah loved the shore and ocean breezes and he thought that perhaps the sharp smell of salt would permeate her senses and bring her back to consciousness.

  It didn't.

  And now, she laid there, her body curled onto her side, her knees drawn to her chest, preparing to die.

  There were days he wanted to go after Blackbeard again. There were days he wished he had killed him while he'd had the chance, that he'd been a strong enough man to kill the vile bastard. That part ate at him. He'd never thought himself a weak man, but it just wasn't in him to take a life, even after all Teach had done to Hannah.

  But what kind of a man did that make Jack Porter? A man not cut out to exact revenge for his beloved?

  He wondered about this, and the guilt he shouldered grew heavier each day.

  He prayed though, that he had severed enough of the pirate's manhood to prevent him from raping and mutilating another woman for as long as he lived.

  He hoped that with all the rage he felt in his heart.

  He had wept for days after bringing Hannah home. Tears came like rain as he held her, realized that she would never wake. He caressed and soothed her. He cleansed her wounds, retching as he realized their extent what torture she had endured. He only hoped that Teach had not turned her
over to his crew.

  He cringed at the thought. He would never know if she had been passed to the men like a common whore. He prayed that she had not. But she would never be able to tell him. And that was probably all the better for the both of them.

  There was nothing he could do. There was no one who could help them. She would not survive a boat ride across the sound for medical attention. He could not feed her; she'd taken only a dribble of fluids in days. He'd tried broth, water, milk, but nothing worked.

  So he was helpless. His lovely Hannah, his beautiful wife, whom he loved with a passion deeper than the ocean, was going to starve to death. She was going to die and all he could offer her was the comfort and security of his arms around her when she did.

  Resigned, Jack slipped into the bedstead beside her. He drew her head onto his chest and cradled her against him. Encircling her with his arms, his fingers gently caressed her cheek. Short, shallow breaths fanned against his chest and he relished the feel of it, for he knew it would not be much longer before he felt her breath no more. He clasped her left hand in his and ran the rough pads of his fingertips over the smooth circle of gold on her third finger, remembering the day he'd placed it there.

  He kissed her then, on her forehead, and for an instant, he felt she nuzzled him a little closer, that her hand laid a subtle pressure on his stomach, and that a contented sigh escaped her lips. He held her, and as he listened for more, but heard nothing. Not the ocean's roar, not a heartbeat.

  Nothing.

  Softly, slowly, Hannah's body relaxed against him. The warmth of her breathing halted. The beating of her heart stopped. And Jack Porter felt the sting of tears against the backs of his eyelids.

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  With the second celestial orb...

  To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven;

  A time to be born, and a time to die;

  A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted.